


Bop to the Top

by be_brave13, TevinterPariah



Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: AU where Carlos ends up playing Ryan, Alternate Canon, But like only Carlos Angst, Canon Era, Carlos Appreciation Squad, Carlos has no chill, Carlos.exe is not responding, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Future Episode Speculation, Gay Disaster Carlos, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, If this happens in actual canon we're gonna die, It is very plausible in the future but we needed content now, M/M, Mark our words as film school kids, Miss Jenn is treasurer, Pining Carlos, Ricky is VP, Ricky is the best bro, Seb is our soft farmboy son, Seb is president but nobody knows, Seb loves Ryan but also same, Seblos, Short Circuiting Carlos, The Luke Skywalker of HSM:TMTS, Troy and Gabriella WHO?!, egregious overusage of italics, just please only do it when necessary, lighting design is a real job, that's just the truth, they hold hands, we don't make the rules, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21810412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_brave13/pseuds/be_brave13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TevinterPariah/pseuds/TevinterPariah
Summary: Miss Jenn clears her throat and Carlos looks over to where she sits primly in her chair.“Carlos, sweetie, the only one who can play Ryan Evans is you.”Carlos looks around the classroom in a mixture of shock and confusion. He awkwardly points at himself, mouthing “Me?” softly under his breath.Seb grabs his attention with another knee grab and a smile that, this time, looks fiercely proud and joyful. “There’s nobody else I’d tolerate dancing beside me.”Or, when Ryan's actor breaks his leg during tech week, Carlos has to step into the tap shoes of Ryan Evans and he's a 'can't act' gay disaster.
Relationships: Carlos/Seb Matthew-Smith, Seb Matthew-Smith/Carlos Rodriguez
Comments: 64
Kudos: 95





	1. Start of Something New

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a headcanon/future canon predication and now it is a full-blown fic. With all of our souls, we want this to happen in canon like its all right there. We present our evidence to the court.  
> A) We know nothing about the Ryan actor. We don't know his name, have only seen him in like maybe a shot.  
> B) Seb and Carlos are both series regulars  
> C) They have to throw some curveballs, especially if season 2 is already confirmed  
> D) Carlos just is Ryan as a person, like Choreographer student, great fashion sense, queer af, etc.  
> Its. All. There.  
> If it happens @ us because you know we predicted this. Also just imagine all the implications.

“He did _what?_ ” Carlos shouts, clutching his director’s assistant binder to his chest and speedwalking down the hall with Miss Jenn in close pursuit. “I wasn’t here for _one_ rehearsal because of my third cousin’s wedding, and you’re telling me we don’t have a Ryan Evans anymore. The choreography on the ladder for Bop to the Top isn’t _that_ complicated?!” 

Miss Jenn looks at him in that way of hers, eyes slightly too wide but full of patience. Carlos doesn’t get why she isn’t freaking out more. This is a big deal, it’s already the second day of tech week and they have no Ryan Evans. He cannot stress enough that this is one of the worst things that could have happened. Ryan is one of the few leads that doesn’t have an understudy, so there’s nobody to play him, and you just can’t have a single Evans twin. That’s sacrilege. 

It’s his dumb cousin’s fault. She should have moved the wedding when he asked her to three months ago. If she had, they wouldn’t have to deal with this crisis. He didn’t know if it had been worth it to see her get married if the show was going to fall apart because of his absence. 

This show, and the fact that he is doing all of the choreography (with a little help from Miss Jenn), is his ticket into Juilliard. It absolutely _cannot_ fall apart, or his application won’t even cross their desk. 

Ryan is _literally_ the _one_ character that needs to know how to dance flawlessly. Why would they accept a choreographer whose lead dancer can’t even perform the steps well? The world is ending, this is the end. He is just going to end up as a starving community theater dancer going to paycheck to paycheck from his Starbucks job because a certain someone broke his leg and ruined his life. _It’s fine._ Everything is fine.

“Carlos, you just have to take a deep breath and trust the process.” Miss Jenn puts a hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him, but the buzzing under his skin won’t go away. “This is all going to work out in time.”

Carlos looks back at Miss Jenn like a deer in headlights in front of the bomb shelter door. “We don’t _have_ time. We have three days and the only people who can pull off a jazz square are myself and Gina, so we’re screwed. Nobody is going to be able to learn the choreography in three days, I seriously don’t understand why you aren’t freaking out.” 

Ricky pokes his head out the door, an eyebrow raised as he comments, “Carlos, she barely had a hair out of place when she was losing her job, this is nothing.” When neither he nor Miss Jenn react to his comment, he sighs and pulls the door open, holding it with his arm. “Just get inside, we can’t have an all-hands meeting without the director and her assistant.” 

Carlos does a quick take back and forth between Miss Jenn and Ricky, not sure what he’s supposed to do. Miss Jenn nods, removing her hand from his shoulder. Carlos trudges through the doorway, trying to do deep breathing gestures to keep in the fact that he has no chill right now. 

* * *

The cast sits in a circle on assorted stage boxes, chairs, and the ground. Everyone seems to be fairly calm as if things are business as usual. 

Then there is Carlos. Carlos is furiously pacing back and forth, scouring his binder like it’s a sacred text, trying to find a sign. 

Everyone’s eyes are on him, and Carlos doesn’t know how much longer he can handle the pressure of this mantle. Obviously, he’s the only one who cares about this show anymore, by how much everyone isn’t freaking out. 

“So, Ryan Evans…” Nini suggests, breaking the tension in the room. A couple of students let out a collective sigh.

Gina speaks up. “Didn’t we decide what was going to happen yesterday? What’s the big deal, there’s only like, two conceivable solutions anyway and we know what’s best for this cast.” She gives Carlos a heavy look that’s laden with meaning Carlos doesn’t quite grasp, then adjusts her headband before continuing. “I’m not letting the show go down in flames.” 

Carlos does not take the hint and dramatically stalks around the room, having a bit of a freakout. “First of all, Lucas Grabeel doesn’t go here. Second, it’s not like our wounded warrior can play Ryan in a wheelchair. This isn’t _Glee_ for heaven's sake.” Carlos sits down on a chair in a humph, “I beg you, tell me what the solution is.”

“Carlos, now we all know you have a flair for the dramatic… ” Miss Jenn comments before being cut off.

“I’m not being dramatic right now, this show is _falling apart!_ ” Carlos looks around the room in shock. Nobody is on the same page as him right now, and he doesn’t know what to do to make them see the gravity of it. Carlos feels Seb place a hand on his knee, getting his attention. Seb gives him a soft empathetic smile that helps ground him, even if just for a moment. 

“It’s going to be okay, besides there’s only one person who can fill those fabulous tap shoes,” Seb says giving him a knowing look and gently squeezing his knee. Carlos tries to wrack his brain; who could play Ryan? Gina is the only one who can dance well and she’s already Taylor, and it’s not like Seb can play both Sharpay and Ryan. He practiced all the choreography alone with the Evanses, so nobody else would even know where to start.

“Well, who?”

EJ groans in the corner, dragging a hand down over his face. “Can somebody please just _tell him_? Obviously, _someone_ cannot take a hint.”

Miss Jenn clears her throat and Carlos looks over to where she sits primly in her chair. 

“Carlos, sweetie, the only one who can play Ryan Evans is you.” 

Carlos looks around the classroom in a mixture of shock and confusion. He awkwardly points at himself, mouthing “Me?” softly under his breath.

Seb grabs his attention with another knee grab and a smile that, this time, looks fiercely proud and joyful. “There’s nobody else I’d tolerate dancing beside me.”

Warring with equal parts surprise, delight, shock, and fear, Carlos feels a smile that could also be a grimace take over his face. He had been avoiding curveballs for too long, and of all the ones to hit it had to be this one. Fantastic. Well, this was going to make for an interesting tech week. 

Carlos awkwardly laughs and does a singular clap with his hands, “Well, I guess that’s showbiz.” He throws in some spirit fingers at the end, despite the fact he is not feeling the spirit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Content of Our Disaster Son:
> 
> CARLOS, on the first day of school, after introducing himself to Miss Jenn and telling her all about himself and getting the schedule for the musical she’s planning while also in the middle of filling out his conflicts calendar: Oh hell no I’m not missing the first day of tech week.
> 
> Carlos, calling his cousin: You need to change your wedding date. Like, now.  
> Her: ??? Carlos, I can’t??? Like we already rented the venue and got the catering and we’ve heard back from like ⅘ of our guests??? it’s too late???  
> Carlos: YOU DOn’T UNDERSTAND YOU HAVE TO MOVE IT  
> Her: Do you want to explain to like, all seven of our aunties that I’m moving my wedding?  
> Carlos: …  
> Carlos: Fine.
> 
> The next day  
> Carlos, sobbing: Miss Jenn, I understand if you can’t take me anymore as the assistant director,,, this is so unprofessional, I know, I totally understand if I need to step down  
> Miss Jenn: Carlos, it’s literally one day, we can handle it. Besides there’s literally nobody else that applied for the position????  
> Carlos, wiping his Actual Tears away: Wait I’m good?????  
> Miss Jenn, smiling: No, Carlos. You’re perfect.


	2. Get'cha Head in the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos has to relive his second-grade trauma and is whipped, that's the fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The directors didn't make this happen but we still will.

Carlos hates acting. He _really_ hates acting. Ever since he accidentally flung his jingle bells across the stage during the play version of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and broke another student’s tooth, he had sworn it off. Those jingle bells sent him through the five stages of grief in under five minutes, and thus Dancer the Reindeer would be the final role one Carlos Rodriguez would ever play, that is until Miss Jenn really did him like this. 

Carlos looks down at the script he’s holding and grimaces. It’s not that he doesn’t know the lines, he has seen the film an _ungodly_ amount of times, but he still isn’t sure he can do this. 

Well, he _can,_ and he _will,_ but it’s not like he wants to. This is too much pressure and his whole career is riding on this performance. It’s easier to just not be involved, but if he does that then the show will fail. Hence his being here, on stage, with Seb at his side and Miss Jenn smiling at him encouragingly.

She’s not the only one. The crew backstage are all tuned in to see how he does, and Carlos hates the feeling of everyone’s eyes on him. They all stare when he’s teaching the choreo, but then he is in his element, and this is different. He feels everyone pick apart his every fidget and how he delivers his lines, wondering if he’ll be anywhere near as talented as Rico. Though Rico does need some help in the dance department, he does nail his delivery every single time and channels that disaster gay meets puppy dog energy that Ryan Evans exudes. 

So, he stares at the prop of the aptly titled “Callback List” and widens his eyes in pretend shock, letting his mouth fall open for added effect. 

He hears Seb deliver his line perfectly, as always, calling out “Callback? Aah!”

Carlos can’t help the little smile that crosses his face. There couldn’t have been anyone other than Seb to play Sharpay, truly. Nobody else in their school has the right presence, that certain _je ne sais quoi_ that Seb has. Even if Kourtney can sing, that doesn’t mean she’s better than Seb, truly, and even just this one line shows it.

He feels a nudge at his side and sees Seb staring at him, waiting for him to deliver the next line. Carlos realizes he has, in fact, been staring at Seb and forgotten his place. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath before frantically trying to find his spot on the page. Finding it, he takes in a deep breath and flatly says, “Callback for roles Arnold and Minnie next Thursday, 3:30 pm, Ryan and Sharpay Evans.” He lets the rest of the line hang in the air as he scrunches his nose, looking at the callback list. He’s pretty sure he looks like some sort of strange dog when he reads “Gabriella Montez and Troy Bolton” but he’s pretty sure he’s already lost what dignity he has in this rehearsal, so what is another disaster?

Seb doesn’t let any of Carlos’s… _less than admirable_ acting faze him as he steps toward the list to give it another once over, his voice rising in indignation as he continues. “Is this some kind of a joke?” Seb purses his lips then jerks his arms down to his sides in an aborted movement to reach for the list. “They didn’t even audition!” 

Carlos tries to match Seb’s energy and puts way too much volume into saying, “Maybe we're being punk’d?” The line echoes throughout the gym and he feels the stares of the deck crew on him. The first rule of acting is to project, right?

Seb looks at him in confusion that is definitely not faked. “What?” He says, and Carlos really just wants to die. 

“Maybe we’re being filmed right now,” Carlos says weakly. “Maybe we’ll get to… meet Ashton?” It’s more of a question than anything else. It makes Carlos think back to when he was making High School Musical: The Choosical and researched every single aspect of the movies for trivia questions. He’d had absolutely no idea what Ryan was talking about, and learning about Punk’d had made him get lost in a deep internet hole for five hours. 

That being said, this line is _dated._ He’s not even sure if his parents will get the reference? He wants to change the line, but it would blaspheme the holy texts, so it is probably best not to. 

“Oh, shut up, Ryan!” Seb says it softer than he normally does, as if he’s going easy on Carlos. It makes his heart melt just a little bit for how much Seb is attuned to his feelings. 

Really, Seb’s wondering if a single line can make him run away from this. It’s acting. But Seb has always been too good for him anyway.

The moment gets ruined by EJ, as Chad of course, pushing in between them. “What’s wrong?” He says, and Carlos is sure the boy doesn’t even have to act that douchey, he just already is. Carlos almost jumps as he sees EJ’s face slowly make its way over their shoulders and cranes his neck to read the callback sheet. He lets out an egregious, “What?” and freezes. 

_There clearly should be a blackout here. Where is the blackout?_ Carlos frantically looks between EJ and the tech crew who are waiting in silence to come do the scene change. If he has to feel EJ’s breath on him for another second he is going to scream. 

Carlos raises his eyebrows at them, but they don’t move a muscle, so he changes gears to look at Miss Jenn. He makes eye contact only to remember that he’s been trying to avoid making eye contact with her, but he follows through with his slight head tilt to show his confusion and impatience.

Miss Jenn takes the tip-off as she visually scans the theatre for Big Red, who is operating the lighting board. Carlos sees him in the booth and grimaces a little bit. Big Red is _definitely_ occupied, as the dimmer seems to be stuck and there are three techs on it trying to help make it budge. 

“Everything okay up there?” Miss Jenn asks in her peppiest voice. Carlos isn’t quite sure if it is passive-aggressive, considering they _just_ went over the lighting cues in the cue to cue yesterday, or it is just Miss Jenn being Miss Jenn.

 _God help us,_ he thinks. _This is why I stay out of this side of these kind of performances._

“Everything’s great!” Big Red calls, giving two thumbs up before a wash of hot pink light comes down over the stage, which is clearly the opposite of a blackout. 

Carlos sighs and takes a small step away from EJ. If they aren’t going to do their job right, then he’ll just have to take some things into his own hands.

Miss Jenn claps her hands twice and smiles at everyone. “Alright, let’s take a five, everyone, so tech can figure out the board. Please don’t panic, we just have to trust that tech week’s trials will lead to a fantastic opening night.” 

“Thank you five,” the cast calls back before dispersing into small groups. Miss Jenn’s enthusiasm doesn’t seem to be shared among the rest of the cast and crew as the groups go off and the room fills with whispers. 

Carlos hangs his head with a groan and smacks his forehead with the script that he forgot he was holding. “I’m the worst Ryan ever, the show is going to suck, nobody has their shit together, and in five years’ time, I’ll be working at Starbucks living in an apartment with five other people who never do the dishes. _It’s fine. My life is fine_. I’m just going to die now thanks.” 

Carlos feels a gentle pat on his shoulder, which prompts him to look up and see Seb looking at him concernedly. He gives Carlos a weak wave and smile, trying to grab the spiraling choreographer’s attention. “Are you doing okay? You seem… well, you seem to have lost the confidence that’s like, practically the cornerstone of the Carlos Rodriguez brand.”

Carlos widens his eyes a bit as he meets Seb’s blue eyes. Did he really have a ‘brand’? And have one that _Seb_ picked up on? He feels himself short-circuit at the thought that Seb, the boy he has been head over heels in love with since they first met, actually paid attention to _him,_ of all people. 

Carlos wouldn’t describe himself as confident. When you spend your entire freshman year eating in the library alone and deconstructing Andy Blankenbuehler’s choreography, you don’t really develop a sense of confidence in any way, shape, or form. He knows the theatre is where he feels at home, and that he can unapologetically be himself there, but he didn’t think anyone would see that as a form of confidence. He never thought of it as anything special, but maybe it is? Seb certainly seems to think so, and who is he to argue with a literal angel. 

So, instead, he states a fact. “I had no idea what I was doing on that stage, and it showed.” 

Seb looks at him with a grin. “You say that, but I didn’t see you look at that script once after you got started.” Carlos looks down at the book in his hands in wonder, going over the past few minutes to see that Seb is right. “You just need to practice delivery,” Seb adds on with a soft smile before pulling him into a shoulder hug. “And as your stage brother, I will happily help you rehearse. Us Evanses have to stick together.” 

Him. Seb. Rehearsing Lines? Oh no. Last time they had practiced alone together he tripped over his feet to ask Seb to Homecoming. If he did that then, a couple of weeks ago, before he even developed an inkling of hope that Seb liked him back, what the hell is he going to do now? He and everyone else knows he cannot be trusted alone with Seb, yet here Seb is, challenging him like this. 

He relishes in the feeling of Seb’s arm around his shoulder right now, radiating the same warmth that Seb does. If he turns his head, he could practically kiss Seb on the cheek, which would send him to another plane of existence. Kourtney contoured Seb’s face in ways that did wonders for it and the way Seb’s eyeshadow shimmers in the light, just like his eyes do, is going to end him. He did not know how hard he was going to fall for this feminine side of Seb, but Sharpay has awoken feelings in him he did not think were possible. 

Wait, but they are siblings. Not real siblings, but _stage siblings_ , and he isn’t allowed to be in love with his sister, right? 

Carlos has managed to choreograph a whole musical, but this is on a different realm of difficulty he has no idea if he can conquer. 

Regardless, he is weak, and will not pass up the chance to have alone time with the boy of his dreams that will send him deeper down this complicated emotional roller-coaster.

“Sounds great! I mean, there’s no better pair than the Evanses, right?” Carlos says, flashing a big smile and a thumbs up. The second the words come out of his mouth he cringes, realizing what he just said. He definitely insinuated something more incestuous than he had wanted to this pure innocent farm boy. 

_Fuck. Carlos, you dumbass, this is exactly why you should have said no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carlos’s perpetual mood: Hi, I want to die. Please end me. Now, if you have any mercy at all. Thank you.


	3. So Bad I'm Gonna Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrying a whole musical on your back is hard as fuck man 
> 
> ... and Carlos is even more whipped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No disco balls were harmed in the making of this fic, but honestly who makes a disco ball out of paper mâché
> 
> also ngl we snapped with this chapter and if you don’t enjoy it then you’re sleeping on our talent

Carlos, inexplicably, is having an okay time. He thought it would be a disaster, but here he is: only _mildly_ panicking in the back of his head, not doing super horribly running lines, and not embarrassing himself in front of Seb _too_ much. He’s not really sure what more he can ask for. The version of himself that was super worried yesterday was honestly just being paranoid. Things are fine. _This is fine_. 

Carlos looks up from his script sheepishly as he awkwardly stands next to Seb. He’s honestly not sure how close they should be standing next to each other without causing some strange implications, but at this point everyone just needs to be happy they have a Ryan at all. He stares at Seb a bit, unsure how to even start rehearsing the scene, but says his line off Seb’s soft smile and nod. “The Jocks and the Brainiacs mingling in study hall?!?” 

He cringes as the line comes out of his mouth. Was it too fake? It sounded too fake, right? He said nine words and would be done for, this is _just_ great. 

“They’re up to something!” Seb’s voice has so much more life to it than his. And Seb doesn’t even have his script on hand, so he’s looking right at Carlos with those sparkling blue eyes. It’s not fair and it makes him a bit nervous, to be honest, but not enough that he’s going to ask Seb to stop and look away or something. That would be weird to mention anyway, right? 

Seb continues, oblivious to his mental train wreck. “Ryan, we need to save our show from people who don’t know the difference between a Tony Award and Tony Hawk.”

Watching Seb act is completely surreal to him, he doesn’t know how the other boy does it. Seb is literally a ball of sunshine in a farm boy’s body, Carlos doesn’t know how he can act so viciously as Sharpay when he doesn’t have a _single_ mean bone in his body. Seb’s so compelling. He commands the room with the sheer intensity of his line delivery, and Carlos is just, well, Carlos. But he has to at least try to be a good scene partner, even if it is only to make Seb shine. 

“But how?” For once, the line comes across as genuine, if a little too awed. It’s hard _not_ to let it; thinking about Seb just has that sort of effect. 

“I’ll tell Darbus that Troy and his dad want to sabotage the auditions because she gave him detention,” Seb bites out. His mouth is twisted at one corner and really, high school actors should not be this good. Did he see Nini giving this kind of commitment? _No_. 

Carlos glances down at his script again to get his next line, not remembering it in the face of his internal rant. “But it’s a big fat lie! Besides, she’ll never believe that.” _Just like my performance_ , he thinks. _A lie and unbelievable— at best._

But being emo is all forgotten when Seb beckons Carlos closer to him as if to tell him a secret, and Carlos barely hesitates before leaning in to listen to him. He can feel Seb’s breath softly ghost across his face and does everything in his power to not do anything outwardly stupid. Inwardly, well, he’s already at a loss. Seb gives him a sly smile as he says, “She’ll believe anything I tell her because I’m the president of the Drama Club.” 

I’d _believe anything you’d say, Seb._ It takes Carlos’s _entire_ will to not say the thought aloud.

“Now come on!” as Seb delivers the line he lightly yet dramatically hits Carlos on the chest with the back of his hand before charging down an imaginary hallway, miming a hair flounce as he goes. Carlos hand drifts up to where Seb just touched him. _This is fine. We are just acting. This. Is. Acting. Don’t read into it, you gay disaster._

Seb repeating “Now come on!” more insistently goes in one ear and out the other for Carlos, who only comes back to Earth when Seb says, “ _Now_ , Mr. Choreographer.” Carlos blinks and looks down to the ground, realizing he definitely should have followed Seb. _And_ his feet are still planted in the same place they have been this entire scene. _Fuck._

“Oh shit, sorry,” he mumbles, and goes to take a few steps toward Seb. When he arrives next to Seb’s side, Carlos does some half-hearted jazz hands and awkwardly stifles out, “still, uh, getting used to the blocking.”

“And jazz hands are in the blocking?” Seb says, raising a suspicious eyebrow at the panicking boy before letting out a small laugh that sends Carlos reeling all over again. 

“Well, I am the choreographer, so I get artistic license,” Carlos says, trying to save himself before adding, “Besides Ryan Evans _is_ a jazz hands kind of guy.” 

He can’t be entirely wrong. On multiple occasions Ryan preached his love of jazz squares, so jazz hands had to be included, _right?_ Not that Seb would ask for his rationale, but he had determined every character’s favorite style of dance in a detailed spreadsheet and could provide the receipts if needed. 

Yeah, Ryan _definitely_ uses jazz hands unironically, it’s not just him projecting onto the character. Not at all. 

“Look at you connecting with your character, I’ll make an actor out of you yet.”

“Oh yeah?” Carlos retorts. “We’ll see about that. I don’t think anyone can make me overcome my fear that was born in the wake of the last production I was forced to act in.”

Seb smiles at him and quirks his head, eyes shining brightly. “Ooh, tell me more? I didn’t know there was _trauma_ involved.” 

Carlos lets out a little laugh. “Darling, we’re theatre kids. _Everybody_ has a little trauma.” 

This, thankfully, makes Seb laugh. It’s loud and bright and Carlos’s day has been seriously made. Like, this has been worth getting up at five am for and doing his hair up really nice and wearing his good black skinny jeans. Absolutely no regrets. 

He shrugs, smiling back at Seb. “I mean, I’m not wrong, am I?” 

Seb quiets down but keeps looking at Carlos like he’s super funny. It feels pretty nice, to be looked at like that. It almost makes him think that Seb is maybe kind of invested in this thing with him or something. Who would have thought? Evidently, _not_ Carlos.

Then Natalie bursts into the room, clipboard in hand and frazzled beyond belief. “Carlos!” Her eyes sweep across the room before landing on Carlos and then locking on target. “We… _might_ have broken the disco ball for “The Start of Something New?” Y’know. _Again._ ” Here, her voice starts to all run together, now that she’s delivered the worst of her news. “We need you _now._ Steph is freaking out about it and there are pieces of disco ball everywhere and I just need somebody to take the whole thing out of my hands for five minutes.” 

_Did I say that things were going well earlier? Did I? Well, I was right, things_ were _going well, just starting to take a turn for the fantastic, but then_ somebody _had to come ruin it all._

 _This is homophobic behavior and I am disgusted. And for all I thought this school was liberal, my_ fucking _mistake._

Carlos pastes on the fakest smile he’s ever worn. “Are you sure I need to come over right this instant? It’s 7:30 am, _before school_ , might I add, and I’m in the middle of something. Could it maybe, just possibly, wait until my TA period or study hall?” 

The poor girl, however, looks like she’s going to burst into tears. A part of Carlos softens at the sight; she’s obviously stressed out of her mind. 

“I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what to do, and Charlie isn’t helping me at all and I got like, three hours of sleep last night because I had yet _another_ emergency with Elliot getting loose, and I, I just, I’m sorry I can deal with it, it’s okay—” Natalie says, combing her hand through her hair nervously.

Now Carlos feels a little like an asshole. “No sweetie, that’s fine, I can come help now. I’m just a little stressed with all this Ryan stuff. Seb, honey, do you mind?” He turns to face Seb, who has a surprised look on his face. Carlos wonders why for a hot second until he hears the echo of his words in his brain and just blinks a few times uncomprehendingly. 

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine, you have a million things to do as always, I get it,” Seb says quickly with very little emotion, but his cheeks are turning pink.

Carlos doesn’t really know if he’s fucked things up big time or not, but he has absolutely zero time to wonder about it. Well, anyway, he’s just going to choose not to think about it in the face of Natalie’s very important, very time sensitive issue. 

Maybe during is TA period he can have a mental breakdown. That sounds like a _much_ better idea, so now he’s going to put this whole Seb thing out of his head.

“Yeah, okay, thanks for understanding then, Seb. Natalie, take me to the crime scene.” As Natalie starts rambling, he looks weakly back at Seb, who gives him a small thumbs up that gives him the confidence that maybe it will be okay. _Maybe_. 

* * *

_This is just going to be my day isn’t it,_ Carlos thinks as he sits up against the wall in the bomb shelter among shattered bits of disco ball. He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a huge sigh. This is the _third_ time he’s going to have to ask Big Red about making, yet _another,_ paper mâché disco ball. They certainly didn’t have the room in the budget or time to get another one because the show opens in two days, but _that’s_ why they call it hell week. 

But seriously. Why did they have to choose paper mâché? It’s been stepped on and broken so many times that Carlos thinks props should have learned by now. Making it full of styrofoam, or around a styrofoam ball, would have been much easier. 

_It,_ he thinks, _should be illegal and punishable by death to make a hollow disco ball, seriously._ At this point they should just cut the damn thing, like his _iconic_ forest of boys concept. _Not that I'm bitter or anything._

He just lets himself pout and listen to his ‘Sad Boi Hours’ Spotify playlist that he definitely didn’t make when he was pining about Seb before Homecoming, because he deserves this. It includes timeless classics like ‘Shallow’ from _A Star is Born,_ Adele’s ‘Make You Feel My Love’, and Pentatonix’s cover of ‘Hallelujah’, so he’s got all his bases covered. 

However, an unceremonious tap on his shoulder pulls him out of his trance, making him scramble to press pause right as Mitch is singing “ _And maybe there’s a God above._ ”

“Hey man, you alright?” Ricky says, looking concerned. 

Normally, Carlos says what everyone else does in response to this question: _yeah, fine_. But, things have never been less fine in his life, and if he’d ranted to Natalie she one hundred percent would have cried. So, Carlos is at his wits end. And, well, Ricky did _ask_.

“I’ve been up since five, I still have no idea how to play Ryan, I might have messed up my rehersal with Seb with my stupid nonexistant filter, and Natalie broke the disco ball for the third _damn_ time. Oh, and, it’s not even 8am.” Carlos gives Ricky a grin and sarcastic thumbs up before continuing, “I’m for sure having a mental breakdown during my TA period, so that is to say that everything’s _fine_ thanks for asking.” He ends with a fake smile and a little too much sass that seems to have Ricky taken aback. 

Yet, since Carlos is a dramatic hoe, he continues to dig his grave deeper. “But, hey, nobody cares about my problems, so what about you?” 

Ricky throws up his hands, motioning for Carlos to stop spiraling “O- _kay_ , alright! You’re doing ‘not okay’, then.” He clears his throat, scuffing a shoe on the ground. “I feel you, two weeks ago I wasn’t doing too hot either. And it sounds like you’re under a lot of pressure.” Ricky puts down his backpack and slides down the wall to sit next to Carlos. It’s unexpected, but that’s kind of par for the course today, so Carlos doesn’t question it. 

“Pressure is putting it _lightly._ As if I wasn’t wearing enough hats already. The sparkling Ryan fedora is _just_ the icing on the cake. Newsflash: I am _one_ person.” 

Ricky tilts his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows and biting his lip before asking, “Have you talked to Miss Jenn about all this?” The genuine concern in his voice is a little touching; Carlos didn’t know he cared that much. 

“Yeah… well _no_ , I,” Carlos struggles to find the words. 

Ricky’s look turns pointed, not willing to take no for an answer. 

Carlos sighs and says, “Look, I just don’t want to disappoint her. She’s the first person who has taken a chance on me, and I don’t want it all to be for naught.” 

As he talks, Carlos curls into himself and runs his hands up and down his arms nervously to try and calm himself down. He is a wreck, don’t get him wrong, but he will _not_ be a crying wreck right now. He can’t let yet another person down. 

“Carlos, I honestly doubt that she could be disappointed in you even if you quit the musical right now. You’ve choreographed the entire thing basically by yourself. And it’s not just jazz squares or anything, for however much easier that would have made my life.” 

Ricky lets out a chuckle and then looks at Carlos, “It’s a legit, like ready for Broadway kind of thing. You’ve been like, _way_ too good to this show, dude.” Carlos’s face softens and it feels like he could cry, he didn’t think his choreography was _that_ good. And it meant a lot coming from someone who only until recently stopped despising anything having to do with musical theatre.

_Validation whomst? In my household? Apparently, more likely than you’d think._

Ricky lightly places a hand on Carlos’s shoulder. “You’ve been carrying this entire show on your shoulders, and asking for help is okay. Miss Jenn understood, in her own bizarre way, when I came to her about family stuff when I barely knew her. You’re practically _her kid_ by now, like, she’ll understand. But she won’t know unless you actually talk to her about it, you know?” 

Ricky, unfortunately, has made a completely valid and true point that Carlos now has to do something about. He wishes he was less responsible sometimes, truly, because having to talk to Miss Jenn about this is going to make him feel like a complete failure, but, well. 

It’s not like he _wants_ to have that mental breakdown during his TA period. It’s just like, a way to relieve the pressure before he puts the mask back on and… Yeah. Ricky’s right. 

Carlos sighs, deflated. “You’re right. Gotta get my head in the game, right?” He forces out a laugh, then looks down before adding, “And thanks. For saying all that stuff. It means a lot, you know?”

Ricky flashes him a thumbs-up. “No problem at all. After all, I wouldn’t want us to lose a second Ryan. I think just the one is enough stress for everybody.” 

Carlos sarcastically makes a cup clinking motion with a snort. “Yeah, I’ll drink to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but Carlos singing "Ladies Who Lunch" from Company is a vision we can not get out of our heads but are not upset about it
> 
> Selected Songs From Carlos’s Sad Boi Hours Playlist:  
> Make You Feel My Love - Adele  
> Hurt Me Once - Ben Platt  
> Hallelujah - Pentatonix  
> I’m Still Hurting - The Last 5 Years  
> Shallow - Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper  
> Words Fail - Dear Evan Hansen  
> From the Dining Table - Harry Styles  
> Burn - Hamilton  
> Bad Habit - Ben Platt  
> Almost Heaven - Jeremiah Lloyd Harmon  
> Dust and Ashes - Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812  
> Falling - Harry Styles  
> I Never Wanted to Love You - Falsettos  
> She Used to Be Mine - Sara Barelleis  
> Empty Chairs at Empty Tables - Les Miserables
> 
> (feel free to comment suggestions for Carlos's playlist bc be_brave13 is this close to Making The Thing™ lmao)


	4. What I've Been Looking For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotional whiplash for a singular whipped boy... it's Carlos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode is sponsored by the COVID-19 quarantine. Remember to stay in your house, wash your hands, and please do not buy up all the toilet paper at your local grocery store.

Carlos raises his hand as he goes to knock on Mrs. Jenn’s door. He turns to leave, but he meets Ricky’s disapproving gaze. Grimacing, he turns back and knocks on the door weakly saying, “Knock, knock, Miss Jenn.” 

“Carlos!” she exclaims, “Come in.” _Fuck, she’s in her office. She’s never here this early._ He gives Ricky a look that screams ‘pray for me,’ but receives no sympathy as he enters what may be the last room he ever sees. 

He takes matters into his own hands and takes a deep breath. He’s choreographing, and now starring in a musical; he can ask Miss Jenn for a tiny little break, right?

At rehearsal last night, Natalie kept insisting the ensemble for ‘Getcha Head in the Game’ needed urgent choreography run throughs _during_ Sharpay and Ryan’s ‘What I’ve Been Looking For’ choreography practice. He needed to learn his new blocking when everyone else was asking for refreshers on theirs, and he couldn’t get a second alone with Seb so they could run their scenes without some catastrophe happening. He is literally expected to wear the hats of the choreographer and assistant director, now while also being a lead. He cannot physically carry the _entire_ show on his shoulders anymore. 

“Hi Miss Jenn, hope you’re having a wonderful morning! I was wondering if you needed help with anything?” Carlos says with a forced smile. As he shoots off two finger guns he can feel Ricky mentally screaming at him from behind the door.

It figures that he’s literally incapable of asking for help, especially because this show is his baby. If something happens to it, it will be his fault entirely. Everyone will blame him and he’ll never get into Juilliard and he absolutely cannot admit to _any_ weakness in front of Miss Jenn. She is practically his mom, and if he does anything wrong she won’t be mad, she’ll just be extremely disappointed in him, and honestly that is way worse. He would never be able to live it down.

“Yes!” She says, pulling out a large and colorful binder from her drawer and placing it on her desk. “I was going to wait until our TA period to talk to you about it, but seeing as you’re here now, we can get started early!” 

She opens the binder and points to it, forcing Carlos to come closer to her desk and take a seat so he can see what is going on. “So, here's my idea for the custom tablecloth design at the ticket booth. Do you think we should go with the red with black accents or the red with white accents? Oh, but I also liked the white with red accents… which one do you think works best?” She says, pointing to slightly differing tablecloth designs while Carlos blinks about fifty times to make sure he isn’t hallucinating. 

_She cannot be serious._ He thinks, flicking up his gaze to look at her to check her sanity quickly before looking back to the book, the test inconclusive. 

Miss Jenn, however, is not done. “And I was wondering, since we have a couple extra lights, maybe we could get them on over the tables. If so, what color do you think we should make the light? I thought yellow might be nice to warm up and brighten the red, but that all depends on the color tablecloth that we choose, no? If we go for the white, then blue might be a better choice to make the white really stand out—”

Carlos just stops listening. This is insane, and pedantic, and literally so far removed from his entire job that he wants to scream. How the hell is Miss Jenn focused on this when he has to learn the entirety of playing Ryan in like, two days? 

Also, where was she when he had to calm down Natalie about the disco ball? It would have been nice if she could have done that instead of him. Maybe then, they would actually be getting _real_ work done.

“Hey, Miss Jenn,” Ricky says, poking his head in. _Thank god._ “Big Red had a question about-”

“Can you give us a moment Ricky? Carlos and I are discussing some urgent lightning concerns, you know, director to assistant director.” When Ricky isn’t taking the hint, Miss Jenn points her pencil at him for emphasis, “Alone.”

“Yeah, well that’s what I came to ask about since Big Red is, you know, the lighting director, and is having trouble with the setting up the ‘Stick to the Status Quo’ cues.” 

Miss Jenn thinks to herself for a minute before lighting up to answer, “Carlos has all of the notes in his binder, he can-”

Ricky shifts his weight and nudges Carlos to stand up for himself. When he doesn’t, Ricky irritatedly says under his breath, “Well, shouldn’t Carlos be working on running lines with Seb?” 

“Carlos is also right here and he can speak for himself,” Carlos cuts in, annoyed. This has been a train wreck. His morning just keeps on getting better and better, he should have never come to school and just stayed home, this is awful and becoming the worst week of his life.

He has his outburst to thank for Ricky and Miss Jenn staring him down in his chair. He supposes he has to say something now.

“But yeah.” Carlos shifts awkwardly as he says it, but he really doesn’t have the time to deal with the fucking ticket booth’s lighting scheme. That’s a job that literally _no one_ needs to do. “I actually kind of maybe left Seb in the practice room by himself, and I should probably get back to him.” 

The reminder that he left Seb probably about a good thirty minutes ago stings. He hadn’t gone back into the bomb shelter because he’d wanted to not have a mental breakdown in front of the other boy, but in doing so he’d gotten side tracked with Ricky and now Miss Jenn and honestly? Carlos is just the absolute worst and shouldn’t be allowed to live anymore. Seb probably hates him now. 

He’s pulled back to reality by Miss Jenn beginning to talk. “Carlos, we’ll sidebar about the table ideas later, take the rest of the morning to practice with Seb.” Carlos lets out a sigh of relief and gets up out of the chair. He mouths a ‘Thank You’ to Ricky before getting ready to bolt out of the office. 

But after he takes the first few steps out, a horrible picture comes to mind: the white tablecloth with red accents and yellow lighting. 

_Ugh, awful._ He _cannot_ let that crime happen.

Carlos turns around, sticks his head back in, and calls, “By the way, I like the red with white accents best, and just make the light white for goodness’ sake.” Then he turns and runs away as fast as he can before Miss Jenn can pull him into some other harebrained scheme.

* * *

Carlos stumbles into the bomb shelter, completely out of breath and falling over his feet. “I am _so_ sorry, Seb. I was going to text you that I got caught up with Miss Jenn but my phone is in my bag.” As he speaks, Carlos stands slightly hunched over, still trying to regain what oxygen he expended in making it to the bomb shelter in record time. 

He continues, “One whole thing led to another and well, Miss Jenn was having an aesthetic crisis that I did _not_ want to be a part of because I wanted to be here with you, but I’m not allowed to have nice things.” _Did I just say that? Yes I did, but at this point I'm too worried Seb is upset with me to care._

Carlos goes on, pleading and not daring to look up from the ground and meet Seb’s eyes yet. “But, I’m back and we can rehearse again, if that’s still fine with you, and I promise I’m not going to get dragged off again.” After a few beats, he doesn’t hear anything and looks around the room to see Seb at the piano, back still toward him. 

Seb hates him and isn’t going to forgive him for this. If Seb was going to forgive him, he’d be looking at Carlos, and the other boy certainly is _not_ doing that right now. Now they will never be friends, let alone ever work out what their relationship status even is since homecoming. He'll just suffer alone. His life is definitely pointless now. 

Seb looks up from the piano bench and takes one of his earbuds out, looking to Carlos with a soft smile. “Oh, you’re back! How’d it go?”

_Oh. Seb didn’t hear any of that. I am glad the universe has a grain of mercy this morning._

Carlos, having regained some of his composure, says, “It went fine, I got caught up with Miss Jenn. I’m sorry it took so long.” 

“Don’t worry, I know you’re busy and you lack the ability to say no to her,” Seb says with a small laugh as he stuffs his phone into his backpack. Why does literally _everyone_ think he has a problem with this? He does, but he doesn’t need to be reminded of that constantly. 

Carlos retorts, “Look, I somewhat stood up for myself so we could rehearse together now, so I count that as a win.”

Seb shoots him a small smirk. “Then why aren’t we rehearsing?” Carlos lifts up his finger, as if to respond, but instead goes to grab his script. As Carlos crouches on the floor to unzip his bag, he hears Seb approaching behind him and adding on, “Dress rehearsal is tomorrow night, no more scripts.” 

Carlos gets up to face the boy holding his script and raising an eyebrow at him, trying not to think about the lack of space between the two of them. “Since when are you the Assistant Director?”

Seb, dropping the banter, gently pushes Carlos’s binder down and meets Carlos’s eyes. “Carlos, you’ve got this. You know the lines by heart. Please practice without the script this time, for me?” 

Carlos registers that Seb has taken the binder from him, but at this moment he doesn’t care. Besides, he can’t argue with Seb’s logic.

As they start to get set up, Carlos still feels the thoughts of lighting and color and disco ball number three running around his head. He also remembers that he fell asleep in the middle of his chemistry homework last night and he has to do that before third period somehow as well, and this really has been a shitty morning, huh?

“Carlos?” Seb calls, jerking him out of his thoughts. “You good?” 

He grimaces and shrugs. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Seb walks over to him, looking him in the eyes. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

He smiles, but it falls flat. “Really, I’m good. There’s just been a lot going on this morning, you know?”

Seb nods twice slowly, but looks at him critically, taking another step closer to Carlos. He makes a face, then says, not unkindly, “Listen, Carlos, I think you need to relax for a minute. Feel all the tension in your body? You’ve got to let it go.” 

Does Seb not realize that he is standing _much_ too close to Carlos for him to be relaxed? 

Carlos chuckles weakly. “Yeah, I just have so much going on, I don’t know how to let go, if I let go the show will fall apart, Seb, I can’t—”

Seb comes closer still and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Yes you can, Carlos. The show can stand on its own for a little while. For the next fifteen minutes here with me you don’t have to be Carlos, you have to be Ryan Evans. And Ryan Evans isn’t worried about anything, because he’s got this in the bag.” 

And maybe it’s Seb’s hand on his shoulder, nice and warm and solid weight; maybe it’s being told that he can pretend everything’s okay for even fifteen minutes and being released from responsibility; maybe he’s just so tired that it all falls off his shoulders, but Carlos relaxes. 

His eyes flutter closed and he lets his shoulders fall from their tight, tense position up by his ears while he absentmindedly thinks that his ballet teacher would kill him if he’d held so much tension like that in class. He tilts his head to both sides, cracking his neck, and when he opens his eyes again, he’s staring right into Seb’s gorgeous blue eyes. 

Carlos feels a soft smile start to form on his face, and he slowly sees it returned on Seb’s face too. 

“See? That’s much better,” Seb says lowly, sliding his hand down Carlos’s arm before relinquishing contact and stepping away. 

Seb’s tone of voice changes back to its usual alacrity. “Now we can get back to blocking.” 

Carlos kind of wishes they didn’t have to go back to blocking, because whatever that was, he wants it to continue. He has no idea what it was, but it easily was the best part of his truly shitty morning. Can’t blocking wait for another time, like study hall? 

Carlos sighs, but then Seb gives him a raised eyebrow look and, wow, okay, they’ve just brokered a deal. 

“Where are we starting from?” Carlos asks, gaining his bearings quickly.

Seb considers this for a moment before deciding. “Let’s try from the top of the scene we were working on when we were interrupted, yeah?” He points to where Carlos remembers he needs to stand, and Carlos moves there so they can start. 

“The Jocks and the Brainiacs mingling in study hall?!?” Carlos says, trying to inject the right amount of incredulousness into the statement and missing wildly. 

Somehow, it just feels like the world is ending right there. It’s worse than the fucking jingle bell shitshow in fourth grade, standing there beside Seb when he thought this morning couldn’t get any worse, and here he is, a failure who can’t even say one line believably. 

He sits down on the ground immediately with a thunk and pushes up his glasses to cover his face with his hands, frustrated tears prickling behind his eyes. 

He feels Seb’s hand land on his shoulder again, the other boy crouching down beside him. “Hey, Carlos, what’s wrong?” 

_Everything,_ he wants to say. _Everything but you._

Instead, he just shakes his head. It all feels like too much, and he still can’t act to save his life, literally. 

“Listen, you’re doing great Carlos. You need to stop putting so much pressure on yourself. You already know all the lines and all the choreo. All you need to work on in the blocking. I’ll say it as many times as I have to: you’re practically already Ryan Evans, even without the show.”

Carlos lifts his head to glare at Seb. Being nice is being nice, but this feels like a lie. “You can’t say that when literally every time I open my mouth the lines come out like I’m being held at gunpoint.” 

Seb purses his lips. He opens his mouth to say something, hesitates, but then ultimately decides to say it. “You’re just trying too hard, Carlos. You can’t think about it too much or that’s what happens.” Seb is quiet for a minute, thinking hard. 

“It’s like dancing.” He says. “When you perform, are you constantly thinking about the next move you’re going to do?”

Carlos shakes his head. Of course he doesn’t do that. By then, he knows the dance well enough to just step back and let his body take over.

“Exactly. You just have to trust yourself and let go.” 

It’s almost like the universe is trying to send him a cosmic sign or something. _Let go_. What a difficult, stupid, and awful thing to make him do. 

The discontent must show on his face, because Seb huffs out a laugh.

“I know,” Seb says, “it’s not that easy. But you have to try. You can’t be Carlos-acting-as-Ryan. You have to _be_ Ryan. And that leaves no room for thinking while onstage.” 

And for the first time, Carlos thinks he might finally get what Seb’s trying to say. 

Carlos runs Seb’s words over and over again through his mind. He can’t be Carlos, he has to be Ryan, just like Seb can’t be Seb, he has to be Sharpay. Wait. “How do you not be Seb-acting-as-Sharpay? You’re the human embodiment of a ray of sunshine, how do you become the person you’re not?” 

“Well, you haven’t seen me at home when Georgie and I get in a tiff,” Seb says with an off-hand laugh, before smiling a bit to himself, “No, but in all honesty, there is something freeing in acting that lets you express the feelings inside of you just aching to come out.”

“Ah yes, like your undying love for Troy Bolton and the color pink.” 

“The color pink, yes, but I was definitely more of a Ryan Evans type. Troy is great and all, don’t get me wrong, but there’s nothing more charming than that impeccable sense of style, his dedication to choreography and don’t get me started on those _perfect_ jazz squares. How could you not adore him?” 

_Wait. Seb loves Ryan. Seb said that I am Ryan. Does Seb… like me? No. He couldn’t. I mean, I just had a mental breakdown in front of him. That’s not very likable, is it?_

“Well, it’s a crowd favorite, everybody loves a good jazz square,” Carlos blurts dumbly, trying to save himself and pretend he’s not beet red. 

The next moment is a complete blur as Carlos feels Seb pulls him into a tight embrace. Seb excitedly exclaims, “See, I knew you’d be my perfect Ryan Evans.” 

Carlos.exe is not responding. If he dies right now, the words “my perfect Ryan Evans” should go on his gravestone, just in case anyone is wondering. 

Somehow, his arms come up to hug Seb back, and he changes his mind about earlier, _this_ is the best part of his day. Hands down. 

When they pull away a few moments later, Carlos instantly misses the contact with the other boy, who is inches away from him with a huge smile painted on his face. If Carlos was a bolder human being, he would eliminate that distance, but today is not the day. 

Seb stands up and offers Carlos a hand. “Now c’mon Ryan,” he says, “let’s get on doing what we came here to do.” 

Carlos takes it, and Seb pulls him up a little too forcefully, causing Carlos to stumble into him. 

After the first two steps, though, Carlos regains his footing and realizes that he needs to save himself right now. He’s embarrassed himself too much today to take yet another L. “I didn’t know we were practicing the ‘What I’ve Been Looking For’ choreo, _Sharpay_ ,” He weakly says as he steadies himself, placing a hand on Seb’s shoulder.

Seb unblinkingly stares at him, “We… weren’t? I was just-” Carlos watches a pink flush paint across Seb’s face, glad for a moment he’s not the flustered mess and shocked he could turn the other boy into one. 

Then, of course, the bell rings, and Carlos wonders when his life became one big walking cliché. This stuff only happens in bad movies, but then again, he does go to East High. 

_Let’s go Wildcats,_ he thinks sarcastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our heart goes out to our boy Ricky Bowen who probably had to discuss the plans for the table color scheme with Miss Jenn, he's a real one.


	5. I Don't Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos is still w h i p p e d, but what's new? Ah yes, Imposter Syndrome and Anxiety.  
> (I mean it's not new for Carlos but it hits different during dress rehearsal)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow COVID-19 sure is a generous sponsor to put out yet another chapter and a consistent update schedule for us.

Dear God, how the hell are they supposed to open tomorrow? At least the dress today isn’t invited; if anybody witnesses this disaster, especially people he knows, he might just quit theatre all together and join the robotics club. This is _not_ going well. 

Miss Jenn has never looked this stressed. And like, he’s including the time where she almost got fired. Her normally peppy energy seems flat and businesslike, which makes whenever she yells just _that_ much more scary.

Like right now, for instance. Miss Jenn said ‘fuck’ and she literally does not seem like the type of human capable of doing so. The dress has somehow gotten up to Stick to the Status Quo without a major incident (but with _many_ minor ones that Carlos isn’t even going to mention), but now things are falling apart on the tech side to a degree that cannot be ignored.

It is impossible to focus on remembering his choreography when Natalie is ordering around the techies like a drill sergeant about how the tables are not on the correct spike marks. Okay, they were a couple inches off, but he doubts that’ll interfere with people’s blocking. She _should_ be talking to them over headset to not throw the performers. Is she? _No_.

Miss Jenn’s yelling is a bit more distracting, but also a bit more necessary, like her calling for the spot back on Gina instead of wandering around the lunch tables, or Big Red switching on the next sequence too early. It doesn’t help that there are also definitely mics still on for people in the dressing rooms. For somebody who hasn’t even been to the bathroom all rehearsal, Carlos has heard a toilet flush _seven_ times too many.

Of course, though, the actors are supposed to keep going and pretend like nothing is wrong. 

Carlos is having a lot of trouble pretending nothing is wrong. _He_ should be out there fixing things that are wrong too. It bothers him that not a word has been said about the three basketball players wearing their uniforms in the lunchroom. This is not a locker room, people, come on. 

At least they are able to get through the first half of Gina’s dance solo without somebody getting kicked in the face, that is a plus. But standing next to Seb onstage, and looming over the rest of the dancers, he knows this song is going _way_ too smoothly in comparison to the rest of the evening. He’s trying not to think about Murphy’s Law coming to curse this number too, but here he is. 

Seb’s “Everybody Quiet!” pulls him away from his thoughts as all attention in the room is focused on the boy standing to his left in the pink blazer and silver lamé pants. Seb, for one, is always ready in his costumes, _unlike some people_ , and rocks the makeup that Kourtney applied. He feels underdressed in his newsboy outfit that couldn’t have been further than Ryan Evans’s actual style aesthetic, but he _totally_ isn’t bitter towards the wardrobe department. But it doesn’t matter when he gets to see Seb so at home in his Sharpay costume, he lights up the entire room with that alone.

And then Seb starts singing. His voice is powerful and loud, and Carlos thinks he hardly even needs a mic to be heard. Both of them are walking down their separate staircases to get to the floor so they can start dancing, and something in Carlos registers that this is the first time that they’re really going to do a real partner dance fully onstage. 

What I’ve Been Looking for did not count, seeing as it was audition-y and they hardly interacted, but as Carlos walks down the stairs, all he can think about is his upcoming spin into Seb’s arms into the fan kick and then the little role reversal and the jump and he has to spin and spin and then spin Seb with the lift and— he’s down the stairs.

Carlos walks over to Seb in the middle of the floor and starts to do what he’d just thought about, barely remembering to sing out “Something’s not right.” Carlos kind of wants to kill himself for putting in so many turns when he’s supposed to be singing, really, what was he _thinking_ when he’d choreographed this part? But it still comes out, albeit a little breathless. 

Then he and Seb are harmonizing on “And we gotta get things,” and Carlos settles into the prep for the lifted spin, his hands a little sweaty as they continue, “back where they,” the lift starts, “belo–”

Seb slips, and Carlos feels his world slow down as Seb’s ankle comes out of his grasp. The other boy’s body weight flings outward, pulling Carlos into a hunched over position to counterbalance so Seb doesn’t fly out too far. He knows it isn’t going to give him much time, but it buys him just enough to tug downward on Seb’s arm and make him skid against the gym floor. 

When they both come to a halt, Carlos looks down at Seb for two seconds of relief, then shock hits.

He just _dropped Seb._

The world feels like it’s crashing down around him as suddenly the spot goes dark and the band’s playing slowly peters out. A couple of the dancers walk up to them and Natalie frantically yells, “That’s a five people, how about we take a five?” which only makes everything a hundred times worse. 

He is the choreographer and he cannot do his own choreography. This is literally the end for him. 

It comes to Carlos’s attention that he is still holding Seb’s hand. He lets go immediately upon the realization. After this, he does not deserve to hold Seb’s hand, not even a little bit. He takes a few steps back for good measure and blurts, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry” before running offstage. 

He doesn’t think he can face Seb at all right now, not after probably injuring him, so he bolts into the quick-change booth, closing the curtain to hide his shame and suffer in silence.

If he fails at the dance he literally came up with, he can’t be Ryan Evans. That’s just not something Ryan would do. Carlos thinks desperately if maybe they can still call up Rico and get him to come back in a wheelchair, even though he’d dismissed the idea days ago. 

He’s in the middle of drafting a resignation email in his phone’s notes when he overhears Seb asking the tech crew if they’ve seen Carlos. He tries to sit completely still and mask his breathing, praying that nobody finds him in here.

The curtain to the booth flings open in retaliation. It’s who else but Seb, the very person he is trying to avoid.

Seb gives him a weak smile and softly asks, “Are you okay, Carlos?”

“Am _I_ okay?” He scoffs at the question, but softens his tone to ask, “Are _you_ okay? In case you don’t remember, _I_ was the one who dropped _you_.” He tears his gaze away from Seb and looks away petulantly. 

“I’m _fine_. Don’t you remember how many times Rico dropped me in rehearsal? Carlos, we’ve practiced this dance together once. It’s not a big deal.” 

“You could have not been fine,” Carlos urges, “I could have injured you.”

“Good thing you didn’t, otherwise you’d have to play both Evanses,” Seb says, letting out a small laugh. Carlos is relieved by Seb’s levity in his time of personal crisis, he didn’t want to have to face the other boy being upset with him. Sure, he imagines Seb hating him all the time when his anxiety is talking, but actually facing the real deal, that would be a yikers. 

“That would be a disaster,” Carlos admits readily. He doesn’t even want to imagine having to play two main characters at the same time. Just the one is enough, thank you _very_ much.

“I’m sure you’d find a way to dazzle us as always! Now come on, Miss Jenn wants to run it again and I need my dance partner,” Seb smiles as he extends out his hand to help Carlos up. 

Carlos hesitates to take Seb’s hand. He would love to, on any other occasion, but having to go stage and potentially screw up again is daunting, “But what if I-”

“No buts, just do what Miss Jenn says and trust the process and I’ll be right there beside you.” Carlos nods and grasps Seb’s hand, allowing the other boy to help him up. What he doesn’t expect is Seb to keep hold of his hand as he is dragged back on stage by an excited Sharpay. 

If it isn’t for the eyes staring at them when Seb triumphantly announces “Found him!” to Miss Jenn, he probably would be flushing for reasons other than embarrassment. He tries to ignore the warm feeling of Seb’s hand in his and focuses on running through the choreography again in his mind, but the effort is futile. 

“Alright everyone! Let’s start again from the top of the song. Places!” Miss Jenn breaks up Carlos’s occupied thoughts to have Seb finally let go of his hand. 

Seb turns to him and smiles. “Remember, don’t think too hard, just feel and let your body take over. You know these steps. They’re _yours_.” 

As he turns to leave, Carlos just stands there and looks at the space Seb used to occupy. He’s said it before and he’ll say it again: he doesn’t deserve Sebastian Matthew-Smith. Nevertheless, he has him, and oh boy does Carlos know that’s his lucky break. 

After processing a moment too long, the lights switch onto their pre-song setting, which jerks Carlos into action. He turns and scurries off to his side of the wings and waits while Miss Jenn gives the all clear and the number starts up. 

He must look incredibly nervous while Gina is performing her solo because Seb gives him two thumbs up and mouths ‘You got this’ to him from the opposite wing. He can do this, he just needs to channel his inner Evans. He did it at yesterday’s private rehearsals with Seb, he can do it again in front of the audience, _I hope._

When their cue comes, things start out much the same. Seb is amazing as usual, and Carlos walks down his set of stairs until they meet in the centerstage. 

It definitely isn’t his intention to have put _that_ much intensity into singing his “something’s not right” solo and the “and we have to get things back where they belong” harmony line, but it is just one of those days where what he’s feeling colors the line. He certainly is feeling that imposter syndrome right now and is a flop compared to everyone else present. Literally he does not belong up here, he never did.

But he has to channel Ryan, who definitely feels like he’s less than his sister Sharpay until he really comes into his own in the sequels. Maybe playing Ryan in the musical will be that moment for him? And Ryan gets to go to Julliard in the end, so he’s got to stay positive right? He can do this. 

Thankfully the lift goes according to plan and they are able to execute the rest of the choreography without a hitch.

They exit the stage and wait to go back on so Seb can get spaghetti’d by Nini. Seb reaches out for Carlos’s hand with a huge grin on his face, his other hand coming up to cover his mic.

“Carlos you were so awesome!” He whisper-yells. “The sheer emotion you put into your lines… that was Ryan Evans right there.” 

And, whomst? Carlos wonders if he is in the right body right now. He absolutely cannot be, because he just did everything right and Seb’s looking at him like he’s amazing or something. Not ten minutes ago he was about to resign from the entire musical, wasn’t he? Doing a 180 like this should not be allowed, Seb’s praise should not be showered onto him, he doesn’t deserve–

The techies motion for them to go back onstage, and Seb squeezes Carlos’s hand once before dropping it. Carlos returns to his body, which it turns out, is in fact his, and mouths ‘thanks’ at Seb before they walk back out under the lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS SCENE  
> Seb: so are we gonna talk about how you [look](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/hsmtmts/images/5/52/Sebby.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/340?cb=20200422224829) like a Newsie???  
> Carlos: ugh. i love Kourtney but like,,, its the ANTITHESIS of Ryan. i feel like i’m spitting on his grave by wearing that stuff  
> Seb: you know… you could not wear it  
> Carlos: and wear what??? the Ryan Evans Wardrobe™ i have hanging in the back of my closet? lmao  
> Seb: you’re saying you _don’t_ have Ryan Evans’s complete wardrobe on hand??  
> Carlos: … i might  
> Seb: alright then! the only question now is if you need my help packing all of it up to bring over tomorrow, or can you do it yourself?


	6. Bop to the Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos is struggling at first cause he's whipped, but he gets confident does the thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While it's a travesty that this didn't become the actual canon like we had hoped/predicted going into this (No shade we love Rico but... _this_ ), thank you for following us along on this crazy journey! Your love and support throughout have been absolute treasures and we love you all.
> 
> Without further ado, here is the titular and final chapter of your fave fanfic disaster:

As Carlos stares into the dressing room mirror, the realization that he feels at home washes over him. He smiles looking at the white-zip up sweater that he and Seb had raided his closet for last night that looks _exactly_ like the one Lucas wears in the movie, and the matching black skinny jeans he has on. He’s shocked that the only thing that feels out of place right now is the boring grey Newsies cap that clashes with the rest of his outfit. 

He had been sure he was going to be a ball nerves tonight, especially after that nausea spell in Mr. Mazzara’s class, but once he put his costume on, everything started to feel right. As everyone runs around flusteredly trying to grab a hold of Kourtney to do their make-up or make sure they are in the right costume for the act, he does Sharpay and Ryan’s vocal warmups in the mirror to center himself. 

He doesn’t even notice when Seb walks up behind him and steals the newsboy cap from atop his head. Carlos looks at Seb, appalled that the other boy’s antics mess up his hair, but he can’t help but smile at Seb’s shit eating grin. “Seb, can I have the hat back?”

“This _dreadful_ thing? No!” Seb throws the hat like a frisbee across the room and Carlos raises an eyebrow at the other boy. He’s got a mischievous gleam in his eye and Carlos plays along. 

“Then what am I supposed to wear?” he puts his hands on his hips and pouts.

“Close your eyes,” Seb says with a smile. Carlos eyes at him suspiciously. Seb urges, “Please?”

Carlos sits back in the chair and closes his eyes as he feels a gentle weight rest atop his head. Seb gives his shoulders a light squeeze and softly says, “Now open, Mr. Choreographer.” 

When Carlos does so, he tries to stop the tears of joy from welling up in his eyes. Completely speechless, he takes the white newsboy cap off his head that has a bedazzled brown stripe down the middle third. He cherishes the accessory, turning it about in his hands to find “For my Ryan Evans. Love, your Sharpay” inscribed on the bottom in neat handwriting with a little heart.

“When did you… I… ” Carlos asks, unable to complete his thought as he gingerly holds the hat in his hands, looking at Seb with wide eyes and glasses that are definitely _not_ fogging up.

Seb rubs his hand behind his head and embarrassedly shuffles as he speaks. “You said last night how upset you were you didn’t have the perfect hat for Ryan.” The small smile on his face spreads as he continues, “I told Georgie, and well, she’s pretty crafty with a glue gun. We wanted to make sure that you would feel confident, so we may have stayed up a little _too_ late bedazzling this.”

The awed expression on Carlos’s face starts to look puzzled, “Wait, is that why you missed first period?” 

“Maybe,” Seb says, looking at the ground and blushing deeply. With that, Carlos feels a huge grin spread across his face as he envelops Seb in a tight embrace. Usually he would never condone missing class, but _this_ , this one he’ll let slide. 

“Thank you so much, Seb, I love you,” Carlos says under his breath as he lets himself relax into the hug. He feels Seb tense up. Carlos runs over what he just said through his head… _Shit._ “ _It_. I love it. The hat. Love _it._ ” 

Carlos lets go of Seb quickly, which confuses the other boy who looks at him with wide eyes. Carlos takes a step back from Seb, and rests against the dressing room counter. He fumbles with his sleeves and avoids Seb’s gaze, until Seb takes his hands into his own and gently squeezes them. He gives the choreographer a reassuring smile, “Are you alright ‘Los?”

Carlos lets out a sigh as he tries to get his courage together to tell Seb how he feels. He’s sure Seb knows. Carlos has made it _abundantly_ clear, but putting into words all of the things he’d been feeling this year, let alone this past week, is exceedingly difficult. 

He wants to say that Seb being his Sharpay is the only way he would have ever said yes to this ridiculousness, and Seb has kept him sane, kept him whole, kept him _right_ when he has been on the verge of breaking. He thought that he had feelings for the other boy before, but this week in and of itself has proved that there are depths that he’s just beginning to uncover, and he ardently hopes that he will get the change to uncover every single one of them. 

Luckily, he doesn’t have to say anything. Miss Jenn pops her head into the room and shouts, “Carlos. There’s an emergency at the ticket booth.” Upon seeing his unmoving figure, she adds, “Now,” before bolting down the hallway, binder in hand and heels clacking. In any other moment, he would have been upset with Miss Jenn for once again forgetting he: A) Is not her assistant and B) Has a social life. But in this moment, he thanks the powers that be that he has the most intrusive theatre teacher in the Greater Salt Lake Area.

“Got to go, duty calls!” Carlos gives Seb a small salute as he tries to speed walk past Seb, only to accidentally bump shoulders with him. He fast walks backwards towards the door, “Thanks again Seb, you’re the beautiful. _No_ , the hat is beautiful; you're the best. I… See you in a bit!” Carlos weakly shoots off a pair of finger guns in the doorway, before rounding the corner and internally screaming. Smoothness is one thing Ryan Evans has over him as one, Carlos Rodriguez, is the epitome of an awkward disaster gay. 

* * *

As Carlos stands on the opposite side of the stage from Seb yet again, somehow connecting to the other boy across the room, all he feels is ready. The first act had been a breeze, disco balls were still intact, and most importantly, Carlos had not dropped Seb during the ‘Stick to the Status Quo’ dance, so he counted it as a win. 

Interrupting his thoughts, the music starts up. It’s their song, the _Evanses’_ song, and he and Seb are positively going to kill it. 

Seb flounces onto the stage, rocking his white pants and light blue shimmery top with suspenders and a silver skinny scarf, and Carlos follows only a beat or two later. 

They meet in the middle and as the music goes _dun da dun!_ right before Seb starts to sing, they reach out in two sharp movements on the _dun_ s to get into a traditional “dancing” hold, with Carlos leading. 

“I believe in dreamin’, shootin’ for the stars,” Seb sings in his strong, powerful voice that still blows Carlos away every time he hears it without fail and they begin to move downstage together, stepping in a complicated pattern that goes along with the music. At the end of the line, Carlos twirls him out, and then they pose for a second before separating. 

Then it’s Carlos’s turn. “Baby to be number one,” he sings, sharply turning to look at Seb on “baby” and doing a ball change into a _rond de jambe_ with his upstage foot to turn back to the audience before pointing upwards with one hand on “number one.” He continues, doing the dance that has made its way under his skin as he continues to sing, “you’ve got to raise the bar.”

When it’s Seb’s turn again, Carlos feels himself relaxing. He has this. He knows this dance, he literally _choreographed it_ because the one in the movie was so bad that he couldn’t stand to have that anywhere near the fabulous Evans twins. 

He is not going to mess this up for anything, and neither is Seb, who continues to sing and dance like he was made for the role; truly _being_ Sharpay instead of acting like her. And, as the two of them start to harmonize on “Blow them all away,” he feels the Carlos Rodriguez in himself taking a step back to let the Ryan Evans through. 

It’s not too much different, but there is a marked confidence in performing that being Ryan brings that Carlos himself does not have. It lets him become a showman who knows how to use every trick in his book to work a crowd, and then some.

And when he glances over at his Sharpay, they work in tandem like they really are twins in order to make the show as mesmerizing as possible. 

The audience believes them when they sing, “And we’re gonna bop bop bop, bop to the top!” It is true because there is no other option. Ryan and Sharpay Evans can do nothing _but_ bop to the top, with Carlos’s choreography and flawless performance behind them. 

When Carlos finds himself on the ladder wrapped in gold sparkly tinsel roughly a minute and a half later, holding one arm out and underneath a paper mache disco ball that was remade four times, he feels alive, accomplished, and elated. 

He and Seb have done it, _together._

And suddenly, when the stage goes black, Carlos Rodriguez is back. And Carlos _really_ wants to kiss the boy that he likes after the best performance of his life. 

He scrambles down the ladder and grabs Seb's hand, thanking every part of his soul that neither Seb nor himself have any scenes in roughly the next five minutes and that they exit on the same side of the stage. 

Carlos cannot get off that stage fast enough, and pulls Seb into the costuming closet that doubles as electrical storage, closing the door gently behind them and then locking it just to be safe. 

“Carlos, what’s going on?” Seb says, and when Carlos turns to look at him, all he can think is _Wow he looks beautiful._

Seb’s silver and navy eyeshadow with a bright blue inner corner highlight makes him look ethereal in the soft yellow light of the closet, and it accentuates the blue of his eyes. Feeling his heartbeat picking up in his chest, Carlos swallows and takes two steps forward to grasp Seb’s hands in his own. 

“Seb,” he says, shaking his head side to side slowly, a helpless grin taking over his features without his consent. “I just, _thank you._ That was the best I’ve ever felt onstage ever in my whole life, and _you_ gave that to me.” 

Seb blushes, ducking his head down before flicking his eyes back up to Carlos’s face. “No, Carlos, _you_ did that. I was just there supporting you.” 

Carlos takes a small step closer. “How about we compromise and say that we helped lift each other up?” He asks breathlessly, and there is so much emotion behind his chest that he can hardly believe that he’s still on the ground. 

Seb nods and smiles, looking radiant and bashful all at the same time. “I think I can live with that,” he says softer than the last time he’d spoken, giving Carlos’s hands a squeeze.

Carlos squeezes back. He feels, he feels, he _feels_ so much that it’s pouring out of him and the words start coming out before he can even process them, before he can even decide that it might be better to wait just a bit longer. “Listen, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. I can’t wait any longer, I need to know.” 

Seb leans forward, minutely, and looks up at him. “What is it?” He breathes.

His heart pounds. He remembers Seb’s fierce look at him while they danced during the second verse of ‘Bop to the Top’, looking fearless and determined and just catty enough to embody his role to perfection. The same boy who has been there for him through every step and misstep of this week, who helped him cart in his three boxes of Ryan costumes after class before Miss Jenn called him to do a bunch of last minute errands. Carlos wants this amazing, intelligent, gorgeous, steadfast boy to be his. 

“Will you be my boyfriend?” He breathes back, and Seb’s face lights up. 

It’s the bright kind of smile that makes Seb’s eyes crinkle at the corners and the ends of his mouth turn up so far that it makes him look a little bit ridiculous, but no less beautiful. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask that,” Seb says. His gaze flicks down, then back up to meet his eyes again. “Of course I will.” 

And the next thing Carlos knows, he’s leaning down just enough to meet Seb in a chaste kiss. 

When they come apart, Carlos forgets the sensation of breath for just a moment. The world is spinning silently on altered gravity to allow them the time and space they need. Seb’s cheeks are pink and his eyes are blue and Carlos feels weightless. 

Then, suddenly, everything is thrown back into focus: the music, the mics giving off just a little feedback, and the not quite silent pound of feet crossing in front of the closet door. 

Carlos, as much as he would like to stay here for another moment, cannot. They have a show to finish out.

He squeezes Seb’s hands just one more time, and smiles softly while quirking his head toward the door. 

“I think it’s time for us to go back out there, Miss Evans.” 

Seb smiles, bearing no ill will. They both know there’ll be more time for this later. “I think you’re right, Mr. Evans. Let’s show them what we’re made of.” 

And, _together,_ they walk out to rejoin the chaos of the show, capable and ready and radiant until it ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all take one look at Seb’s [costume](https://media.distractify.com/brand-img/zuI_-4doM/480x252/carlos-1578677619819.jpg) for Bop to the Top and tell us that isn’t another travesty. So, we decided to take all the creative liberties that come inherent with fanfiction writing and uh,,, change that business.  
> SO! Seb is wearing a costume that fits Sharpay’s og costume a bit better, which you can see [here](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f9/2e/7a/f92e7a507fe3f6d5b01997b379dd1acf.jpg) if you forgot what it looks like. Essentially, we are no artists so there is no picture, but imagine Seb in a modified version of [this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/ELwqocoW4AEMx7y.jpg) iconic outfit Harry Styles wore. Here’s the rundown: the same pants, a light blue shimmery button up (that has more of its buttons done up lmao) with matching light blue suspenders, and then a silver scarf!!!!! (so basically, [this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EWoMbyiUMAY3iI4.jpg) but with the white pants) And then bc Ryan’s outfit slaps, Carlos is wearing that, which you can see in the Sharpay pic :)
> 
> Anyhow, thank you all again for everything!!! We have been delighted and encouraged by the response this fic has gotten and we thank you for taking and completing this journey with us.


End file.
